Hello! I am Tisanemal and this is my little writing sideblog.
Right now I'm posting an 18+ story inspired by Hozier's music and Fleabag, called Take Me To Church. It casts Andrew as a priest (ironic, I know) and has an original female character. It basically can be read as an original work.
Most posts I reblog here are somewhat connected to this story, whether they were an inspiration, or they complement it in some way.
I'm sharing my writing here as well as on ao3, updates are mostly on Sundays.
Masterlist of Take Me To Church
Chapter 1: When We Begin Again (also on AO3)
Chapter 2: She’s Lifting Spring Towards Me (also on AO3)
Chapter 3: A Fresh Poison Each Week (also on AO3)
Chapter 4: Be As You’ve Always Been (also on AO3)
Chapter 5: The Love That Discovered The Sin
(also on AO3)
Chapter 6: I Try to Talk Refined (also on ao3)
Chapter 7: I Drank Dry the River Lethe (also on ao3)
Chapter 8: You Can Sharpen Your Knife (also on ao3)
Chapter 9: A Moment’s Silence (also on ao3)
Chapter 10: The Working of My Hands (also on ao3)
Chapter 11: In Darkness and In Secrecy (also on ao3)
Chapter 12: I Could Break Beneath the Weight (also on ao3)
Thank you for reading! Feel free to DM me or send an ask, don't be shy ;)
Relationships: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Andrew Hozier-Byrne, Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags:
Bisexual Female Character, Forbidden Love, hot priest, Catholicism, Criticism of the Catholic Church, Inspired by Fleabag (TV), POV Alternating, no happy ending, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Dominant Woman, Submissive Man, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Explicit Consent, Oral Sex, Eventual Smut
Summary:
About a woman who already deconstructed her catholicism and who is trying to seduce a priest to “save” him from it, as she thinks.
About a priest who thinks he has chosen his life path well, trying to bring his “friend” back to church, to “save” her.
Fleabag-inspired priest!Hozier romance and smut. What can I tell you. This is for all the (ex)catholic women <3
Notes:
This fic can pretty much be read as an original work. Shout out to @man-i-love-fanfiction for inspiration and advice! <3
Chapter 2: She’s Lifting Spring Towards Me
Word count: 2131
Read also on AO3
Fic under the cut ↓
Notes:
Meet cute ahead :3
Mary was preparing the workshop for the last class of the day. She thought it turned out rather cute; she had repainted the walls and high ceiling in this old building, typical for the area, in off-white to reflect the light coming from the only window at the front.
She equipped the workshop with essentials; six pottery wheels and a furnace, all relocated from her studio in Dublin; big tables, made from wood panels she’d found on sale at a builder’s market; some inexpensive stools for the guests to sit on; a couple of metal racks to hold all the ceramics, and some wobbly wooden shelves for the tools. In a nook, away from the visitors’ sight, she made herself a tiny office space; a hand-me-down desk, a big, comfortable armchair that she wasn’t sad to spend some money on (her back started killing her after she turned 30), and an old repurposed kitchen shelf to hold all the necessary documents.
She was quite proud of it all, especially of how quickly she had put it all together after the New Year. It hadn’t been a hard task for her; she’d done it before and she’d do it again. But January came and went, and she still felt the need to build something new after her relationship had come to a devastating end.
The workshop has already been operating for a couple of weeks, and so far, all the advertisements and the posters she placed around town were really effective; almost all the upcoming classes were fully booked and she already had regular customers. Some of them even started leaving favorable reviews online, and Mary was learning to appreciate every little success. Success — she thought — that will only really be proved once the numbers add up in returns.
She looked at the list of six people who booked the 6 p.m. workshop; she already recognized some of the names.
Ding! A small bell above the door announced the first guest. It was Robin, a shy kid Mary had already seen around. She welcomed them warmly and gave them space as they settled.
Ding! A group of four young people came through the door. They were all talking over each other about recent classes (students of the local college, Mary deduced) and barely paid her any attention. Good, she thought, they won’t be much work; they’ll mostly just do their pieces and talk among themselves, and she’ll have time to attend to the two other customers or catch up on some paperwork.
Mary asked the guests what they wanted to make today; some continued their projects, finding their previously thrown pots and plates that Mary had burned in the furnace, in order to glaze them. Some were already taking positions by the pottery wheels or tumbling around the studio as if it was their own; Mary didn’t mind; not at all. It meant that they were comfortable here, and that they were more likely to come back, because they were having a good time.
Third ding. Mary looked up automatically, guessing it must be the one missing guest; she probably expected another youngster. But it was a handsome man who came through the door, and he immediately caught her attention.
He was tall, so tall that he had to bow his head to avoid hitting the door frame. His dark brown hair was tied into a man bun, but a few loose curls fell around his forehead. He had a reddish-brown beard, and was wearing a brown open jacket, a gray sweater and jeans.
“Good evening,” he hesitated a bit before speaking, as if he wasn’t sure how to start. Mary immediately switched into her teacher mode.
“Good evening, welcome. I’m Mary, this is my workshop.”
“I’m Andrew, hi,” he said quietly, raising his hand as if to welcome everyone, but the other guests were already occupied with themselves. Mary noticed his long fingers that stretched out from his large palm. Oh, this class was certainly going to be fun.
“You must be the last one for today’s class?” She asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Mary smiled and explained: “Okay, so, here are the coat hangers, here are some aprons to wear so you don't stain your clothes. Let me know when you settle on your workstation and I’ll show you the next steps.”
Mary looked around to see if anyone needed help, and then turned to the Hot Guy Andrew, who was now sitting awkwardly by the pottery wheel.
“So, have you ever tried any pottery before?”
“No, this is my first time…” he said with a smile that was definitely charming.
“All right, I’ll be gentle with you, then.” She couldn’t stop herself, although she probably should have. Flirting with customers wasn’t a good look.
“And what would you like to make?” she asked, still minding the wheel.
“Ehm… what is the easiest?” He shrugged.
“A bowl, I guess",” she smiled to him sweetly.
She ran some basics with him and then he was left to try that and familiarize himself with the technique she had shown him. Mary would occasionally glance at him while helping other guests and reflected on how long it had been since she’d gotten laid. She definitely wasn’t ready to start another serious relationship, it was way too early after Leah had left. The last time she’d slept with her must have been 2 months ago today. How great.
Andrew’s large hands were clumsily shaping a piece of clay. The piece took a phallic shape, as it often does in the first step, and Mary smiled to herself, trying to banish the filthy thoughts.
“Do you need any help with that?” she asked him.
“Ehm, yeah,” he blushed ferociously; he guessed what she was thinking — but that meant he was thinking it as well.
This time she refrained from making a flirtatious comment.
She sat in front of him and put her hands on his hands, gently guiding them with the right movements to shape the clay.
He blinked a couple of times, but focused on the work. As she directed his fingers, she leaned in a little and she felt his earthy scent; there was a hint of something woody to it, something that felt like a fireplace.
“That’s pretty much how you do it… any questions?” she said softly.
“Are there… any tools for throwing?” he asked, still averting her gaze.
“Great question: yes, there are, but first you need to know how the clay works under your hands. It seems to me that they are the best tools,” she explained.
There was a beat of silence, and as she looked up at him, she thought she caught him looking down her top. She wasn’t going to lie, she had unbuttoned her plaid shirt for this very occasion five minutes ago.
“And how do you guys feel about the new holiday?” One of the college students, a boy with black hair, asked the others.
“Oh, wait, Saint Brigid’s? I forgot it was today,” a blonde girl answered.
“I don’t really care about saints, I’m just glad we’re getting the Monday off — anything to make me miss the calculus lecture,” another boy said.
Mary listened in on their conversation, and then turned to the Hot Guy Andrew again, almost whispering to him: “We’re the oldest two people in this room.”
“Oh, right,” he smiled at her, and she just noticed how long his eyelashes were. He blushed again, turning his gaze back to the wheel.
Mary started to wonder, why was such an attractive guy so shy. Women must be knocking on his door day and night; or men, if he was into them.
Mary made a round through the workshop to see if any of the “kids” needed help, but everyone was deep into their projects. She returned to Andrew, his little bowl starting to take shape, wobbly and clumsy, but hard-earned.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a good job as for a first time!” Mary praised him, and he went even redder in the face, his hands spasmed over the piece.
“Thanks…” he whispered almost inaudibly.
He looked at his piece, didn’t look convinced. But it was almost the end of the class, as always these two hours passed in a flash. The other guests were already cleaning up their stations, depositing their pieces on one of the racks next to the furnace. He put his little wobbly bowl on there as well. Mary made small talk with everyone as they made a queue to pay.
“And what about this workshop, it’s new, right?” Hot Guy Andrew asked as it came to his turn.
“Yes, I just opened last month,” Mary said, minding the guests who were still busting about and putting their tools away.
He nodded, probably trying to think of a next thing to say.
Mary wasn’t sure if or when he was going to visit the workshop again, so she tried to learn as much about him now. She was curious; she wanted to know, first of all, if he was single — she didn’t want another heartbreak, but she wouldn’t mind a hot date to ease the pain. Unfortunately, it was inappropriate to mention that, so she asked instead:
“And what do you do, Andrew?”
CLANK!
A loud, unpleasant noise reverberated through the room and Mary instinctively looked in the direction of the wobbly shelf; of course, it broke. Robin was standing next to it, they probably put too many tool boxes on it. The shelf was hanging on by just one end, and all the tools that it held had fallen to the floor.
Mary walked to them, “You’re not hurt, Robin?" she said, but they just shook their head.
“I’m so sorry—”, they tried to say, embarrassed and petrified.
“It’s okay, honey,” Mary said. “I’ll take care of it”. She reached for it to prevent it from falling entirely.
“Fuck,” she whispered, as the shelf was quite heavy to hold, and she had to navigate her steps around the sharp tools on the floor. The other guests were also startled by the noise, but seeing that the situation was (kind of) under control, they resumed their activities.
“Do you need any help with that, Mary?” she heard that gentle voice behind her, and Andrew stepped in.
“Oh, thanks”, Mary said, feeling warm from his proximity “Just, careful,” she warned, still in her teacher voice, and she thought she saw shadow of a smile on his handsome face. “I think it’s best to just take it down. I’ll need to get it properly screwed tomorrow,” she said, and felt her ears burn “Screwed in, I mean.”
Hot Guy Andrew held the big, one meter oak wood shelf like it weighed nothing, and deposited it against the wall.
Mary occupied herself with picking up the remaining tools, grateful that it wasn’t a rack with all the pots and plates that went down. Andrew also got down to help her; he picked up the sharp tools and handed it to her one by one; it was awkward at first, but soon they worked well in tandem.
They both reached for the same tool and their hands met again.
“Sor—”, Mary blushed, suddenly realizing he was so close to her. He moved his hand away quickly, but stayed in his position, allowing Mary to look into his eyes. They were muddy green, quite dark in the light of the lamp. He looked at her so gently, but his hands were fidgeting, and he gasped in a breath. Mary wasn’t new to this; she knew immediately that he fancied her.
It was weird, she’d literally just met him, but she felt feverish.
He stood up suddenly. “I should go, probably. I’ll — will you be alright here?” he motioned around the workshop, in which, other than the tools arranged on the floor, everything was fine. He was more bashful with every word that he said, probably usually much more intelligent.
“I’ll be fine, yeah,” she said, bold and strong, standing up as well.
“Thank, ehm… Lovely to meet you, great class! Thanks… again!” he stuttered, his tall body suddenly gaining the grace of a newborn giraffe as he passed the students leaving through the door.
Mary only smirked and raised her eyebrows at him; it’s been a while since she made someone this flustered. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on.
As she cleaned up and closed the workshop for the day, she was racking her brain trying to find a way to be home alone tonight. She then realized she hadn’t brought any of her toys with her from Dublin and that funnily enough, her hands would have to be the best tool.
Hello everyone, I'm Tisanemal and I wrote a smutty romance story inspired by Hozier's music that I will be posting here on my sideblog. The fic casts him as the main love interest, but it can also be read as an original work. This is for 18+ readers.
I hope you like it <3
***
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Andrew Hozier-Byrne, Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags:
Bisexual Female Character, Forbidden Love, hot priest, Catholicism, Criticism of the Catholic Church, Inspired by Fleabag (TV), POV Alternating, no happy ending, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Dominant Woman, Submissive Man, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Explicit Consent, Oral Sex, Eventual Smut
Summary:
About a woman who already deconstructed her catholicism and who is trying to seduce a priest to “save” him from it, as she thinks.
About a priest who thinks he has chosen his life path well, trying to bring his “friend” back to church, to “save” her.
Fleabag-inspired priest!Hozier romance and smut. What can I tell you. This is for all the (ex)catholic women <3
Notes:
This fic can pretty much be read as an original work.
Shout out to @man-i-love-fanfiction for inspiration and advice! <3
Chapter 1: When We Begin Again
Word count: 709
Read also on AO3
Fic under the cut ↓
Notes:
A fair warning that it's explicit right from the start ;)
“Oh yes, right there,” Mary moaned as her lover sucked her sensitive clit. They’ve been fucking with reckless abandon for almost an hour, which passed in a blur; they didn’t even notice when the soft December rain changed into a snowstorm.
A couple of flicks of a skillful tongue and she was coming for the third time this night. Her prolonged whine was more like a shout, one that she was sure now her neighbors could hear, but she did nothing to muffle the sound. She came back to reality from her orgasm a couple of minutes later, while her lover rested between her legs.
Mary felt feather-like kisses on her inner thighs, by a mouth still wet from her, as her heart was pounding in her chest.
“I’m glad that at least we are breaking up like this,” Leah said, “you know we tried our best,” she summed up a year of their relationship.
A year Mary had thought would extend into a lifetime.
They had decided to sleep together one last time before Leah’s flight to Thailand. Now that the pandemic wasn’t keeping her home, she was finally going on a backpacking and work away trip for God knows how long. Perhaps even years, as she had said.
And it’s not like Mary didn’t like traveling. She did! But only for holidays; two weeks in the summer, a couple of separate weeks during the year. It could even be something exotic, had she the free money to spend. But all she’d ever wanted, since she was 19 (and she was 33 now) was to run her own art studio. Be there every day, do her own projects while helping others realize their own creative potential. She was doing it now. And she was good at it. So good she even got a couple of recognitions and awards as a culture animator in Dublin. It was a great honor to her, one that also impressed Leah when they had first started dating.
The year they spent living together was a year of bliss.
But now it was all ending, like all things, apparently.
Leah had been asking Mary to come with her, for months. Or to visit her in one of the distant paradise places she would be working at — really whenever the whim would take her. To Mary, it sounded like hell. Her girlfriend was adventurous, spontaneous, whimsical; what initially impressed her in Leah, became the downfall of their relationship.
So now, the only thing left that they could give each other were mind-blowing orgasms. Mary already knew she was going to miss that.
***
“Yes, this is the last of them,” Mary reassured as her dad helped her unpack her essentials (three enormous suitcases) from her car. She was moving temporarily back in with her parents so that she could open a new pottery workshop in her hometown.
A week before, she was visiting a Christmas Market with them, and saw an empty shop for rent. She thought it might have been a sign. She would use it as an escape from Dublin, where she left her art studio under the direction of Dani, a trusted employee and friend, to open a sort of an subsidiary of it.
And she’d done her research — in the three short days she took to make this decision — it would be the only pottery workshop in the city. She was really filling a niche. Artisan hobbies have been becoming fashionable again, thankfully.
She made plans to come back to her pretty Dublin apartment at least once a week to check on it, but right now she couldn’t stand how everything reminded her of Leah there.
Opening a workshop, as much as a lovely distraction from her broken heart, would be quite taxing on her financially — she would rather not splurge on renting an apartment here. Her parents received her back home cordially; an offer for Mary to live with them was a sort of a hatchet-burying gift after some years of animosity. Even though she had carefully negotiated her return and the rules of the house with her mother, certain things would still have to remain unchanged. And certain things needed to be left unsaid.
